"I'll second that," Alex said. "Our branch managers are pleading for mortgage money. The return on investment is fair. We know from experience the downside risk on mortgages is negligible."
Orville Young objected, "It ties up money for long term, money on which we can earn substantially higher rates elsewhere."
Alex slammed the flat of his hand impatiently on the conference table. "Once in a while we've a public obligation to accept lower rates. That's the point I'm making. It's why I object to weaseling out of Forum East."
'There's one more reason," Tom Straughan added. "Alex touched on it legislation. Already there are rumblings in Congress. A good many there would like to see a law similar to Mexico's requiring a fixed percentage of bank deposits to be used for financing low-income housing."
Heyward scoffed, "We'd never let it happen. The banking lobby is the strongest in Washington."
The chief economist shook his head. "I wouldn't count on that."
"Tom," Roscoe Heyward said, "I'll make a promise. A year from now we'll take a fresh look at mortgages; maybe we'll do what you advocate; maybe we'll reopen Forum East. But not this year. I want this to be a bumper profit year." He glanced toward the bank president who had still not joined in the discussion. "And so does Jerome."
Por the first time Alex perceived the shape of Heyward's strategy. A year of exceptional profit for the bank would make Jerome Patterton, as president, a hero to its shareholders and directors. All Patterton had was a one year reign at the end of a so-so career, but he would go into retirement with glory and the sound of trumpets. And Patterton was human. Therefore it was understandable the idea would appeal to him. The scenario afterward was equally easy to guess.
Jerome Patterton, grateful to Roscoe Heyward, would promote the idea of Heyward as his successor. And, because of the profitable year, Patterton would be in a strong position to make his wishes work.
It was a neatly ingenious sequence, devised by Heyward, which Alex would find hard to break.
"There's something else I haven't mentioned," Heyward said. "Not even to you, Jerome. It could have a bearing on our decision today." The others regarded him with fresh curiosity.
"I'm hopeful, in fact the probability is strong, that we shall shortly enjoy substantial business with Supranational Corporation. It's another reason I'm reluctant to commit funds elsewhere." "That's fantastic news," Orville Young said. Even Tom Straughan reacted with surprised approval
Supranational or SuNatCo, as identified by its familiar worldwide logo was a multinational giant, the General Motors of global communications. As well, SuNatCo owned or controlled dozens of other companies, related and unrelated to its main purpose. Its prodigious influence with governments of all stripes, from democracies through dictatorships, was reportedly greater than that of any other business complex in history. Observers sometimes said that SuNatCo had more real power than most of the sovereign states in which it operated.
Until now SuNatCo had confined its U.S. banking activity to the big three Bank of America, First National City, and Chase Manhattan. To be added to this exclusive trio would boost immeasurably the status of First Mercantile American. "That's an exciting prospect, Roscoe," Patterton said.
"I expect to have more details for our next money policy meeting," Heyward added. "It appears likely that Supranational will want us to open a substantial line of credit."
It was Tom Straughan who reminded them, "We still need a vote on Forum East."
"So we do," Heyward acknowledged. He was smiling confidently, pleased at the reaction to his announcement and certain of the way the Forum East decision would go.
Predictably, they divided two by two Alex Vandervoort and Tom Straughan opposed to the cutback of funds, Roscoe Heyward and Orville Young in favor of it.
Heads swung to Jerome Patterton who had the decisive vote.
The bank president hesitated only briefly, then announced, "Alex, on this one I'll go with Roscoe."
"Sitting around here feeling sorry won't do one damn bit of good," Margot declared. "What we need is to rise off our collective asses and initiate some action." "Like dynamiting the goddam bank?" someone asked.
"Nix on that! Ike friends in there. Besides, blowing up banks isn't legal." "Who says we have to stay legal?"
"I do," Margot snapped. "And if any smart cats think otherwise, you can find yourselves some other mouthpiece and another pad." Margot Bracken's law office, on a Thursday evening, was the scene of an executive committee meeting of the Forum East Tenants Association. The association was one of many groups in the inner city for which Margot was legal counsel and which utilized her office for meetings, a convenience for which she was occasionally paid, but mostly wasn't.
Fortunately her office was a modest affair two rooms in what had once been a neighborhood grocery store and some of the ancient merchandise shelves now housed her law books. The remainder of the furniture mostly ill-assorted, comprised bits and pieces she had acquired cheaply.
Typical of the general location, two other former stores, on either side, were abandoned and boarded up. Someday, with luck and enterprise, the rehabilitating tide of Forum East might lap this particular area. It hadn't yet.
But developments at Forum East had brought them here.
The day before yesterday, in a public announcement, First Mercantile American Bank had changed rumor into fact. Financing of future Forum East projects was to be cut in half, effective at once.
The bank's statement was couched in officialese with euphemistic phrases like "temporary shortage of longterm funding" and "periodic reconsideration will be given," but no one believed the last and everyone, inside and outside the bank, knew exactly what the statement meant the ax.
The meeting now was to determine what, if anything, could be done.
The word "tenants" in the association's name was a loose one. A large segment of members were Forum East tenants; many others were dot, but hoped to be. As Deacon Euphrates, a towering steelworker who had spoken earlier, put it, "There's plenty of us, expectin' to be in, who ain't gonna make it if the big bread dean' come through."
Margot knew that Deacon, his wife and five children lived in a tiny, crowded walk-up, part of a rat-infested tenement that should have been torn down years ago. She had made several attempts to help them find other rental quarters, without success. A hope that Deacon Euphrates lived with was that he would move his family into one of the new Forum East housing units, but the Euphrates' name was only midway on a long waiting list and a slowdown in construction was likely to keep it there for a long time to come.
The FMA announcement had been a shock to Margot, too. Alex, she was sure, would have resisted any cutback proposal within the bank, but obviously he had been over-ruled. For that reason she had not discussed the subject with him yet. Also, the less Alex knew about some simmering plans of Margot's, the better for them both.
"The way I see the ball game," Seth Orinda, another committee member, said, "whatever we do, and legal or not, there's no way, but no way, we can squeeze that money out of those banks. That is, if they've their minds set on clamming up."
Seth Orinda was a black high school teachers already "in" at Forum East. But he possessed a keen civic sense and cared greatly about the thousands of others still waiting hopefully on the outside. Margot relied a good deal on his stability and help.
"Don't be so sure, Seth," she responded. "Banks have soft underbellies. Stick a harpoon in a tender place and surprising things could happen."